


in another life

by itsmerieann



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Mentions of Suicide, POV Nathan Prescott, POV Second Person, Pre-Canon, Pre-Life Is Strange, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 07:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15903972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmerieann/pseuds/itsmerieann
Summary: You watch as she takes a selfie with her analog camera. She was sitting on the edge of the fountain; freckles along her cheeks and the bridge of her nose that was complemented by that hipster style of hers.Maxine Caulfield. The selfie whore of Blackwell.Or: You are Nathan Prescott and you are being haunted by your crime.





	in another life

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a long time ago but I'm posting it here so other people can read it. I remember being fascinated with Nathan's character; he is by no means a good person but I view him as a very complex character that I can't decide to hate or not. I don't want to absolve him of his crimes and wrongdoings but I want people to know that he is more than that.

You watch as she takes a selfie with her analog camera.

She was sitting on the edge of the fountain

With freckles along her cheeks and the bridge of her nose that was complemented by that hipster style of hers.

Maxine Caulfield.

The selfie whore of Blackwell.

Not that she’s a whore.

On the contrary, you have never seen a person more _fucking_ innocent andnaïve than her.

And maybe that was the reason why you’ve taken an interest on her.

_‘And the fact that she is everything that you aren’t’ a voice that sounds like you interrupted your line of thought._

_You pretend like you never heard it._

But the thing is that the voice that’s inside your head is right.

You repress the shudder as you think of _how dirty you are by being used by the people who were supposed to look out for you. You try to not remember the marks of fingernails on your thighs and the hoarseness of your throat as you shouted “STOP! LET GO OF M-_

You close your eyes to stop that train of thought and then opened them again to gaze at the entity shaking her recently taken photograph as she sat upon the edge of the water fountain.

You remind yourself every day to be just an asshole to her as you are an asshole to everybody else. You think that if this continues, she’ll be just like the other who sees you as the rich schoolboy who controls the school because he’s the son of its owner.

You remind yourself that you’ll stop this weird obsession over her the moment that she looks upon you with distaste in those blue doe-like eyes of hers. After all, everyone you cared about left you and who’s she to stop that tradition.

_Besides you don’t want her to know how Nathan “King of Blackwell Academy” Prescott is broken beyond repair after being left behind by the people he trusted to take care of him._

And finally, you remind yourself that you’re keeping her safe by not showing to anyone that you’re smitten to this hipster. Especially when she is in _his_ class and is probably one of his favorite students

You frown at the thought that _he’s_ taken an interest on you. You better do something quick before she turns out like Rachel Amber.

_Beautiful, incredible and dead Rachel Amber._

* * *

You had nothing to do with Kate Marsh.

At least that’s what you tell yourself every night before you go to sleep.

_Or try to fall asleep before succumbing to the temptation of those sleeping pills you always have in bulk._

But as you empty the entire content of your stomach into the bowl you curled yourself onto as you clutch it like a lifeline with tears falling like drops of water from a storm, you can’t help but whisper your apologies ( _I’m sorry Kate. Fuck, I really messed up. Please forgive me_ ) to the poor girl.

Because whatever lies you tell yourself, you know deep down that you caused what happened to Kate Marsh ( _and more_ ).

You vividly recall drugging her, _setting her up with those men_ and producing that _godforsaken_ video under _his_ bidding.

You remember shaking as you drove her to _him._ You remember stopping every few minutes or so to throw up what it is in your stomach as you are _horrified_ with the things you know _he_ will do to her and to you afterward. But despite the _appalling_ commands, you still followed through his orders.

Part of it was because you are afraid of losing the only person who was the closest thing to a father to you ( _as if the things he does to you are what fathers do to their sons but you don’t really have a choice since your real daddy has always been distant and cold that his substitute seems so much affectionate and makes you feel so very loved)._ You are afraid to let go of the only person in your life that is predictable even though _his_ actions are very sickening.

Part of it was because of the fact as you and _he_ were having your staple _photography sessions (you fought the urge to bellow a hollow laugh and cry at the thought),_ he mentioned _her._

You felt yourself freeze as he talks about his apparent student with such reverence. You cursed the Gods as he praises her photographs and her talent in capturing various moments. You started to shake and lament your fate as he talked about how _innocent, pure and fragile she is_ and you were trembling _so hard_ as he comments how she is _perfect she is as his next subject on his portfolio._ You trembled until you screamed at him- begged for him to stop mentioning her name and leave her out of it. You knelt in front of him and begged him to spare the only thing that you cared for _(Fuck Victoria, your best friend, and the Vortex Club and Blackwell and Arcadia Bay, you only cared for her)_ and _swore_ to him that you'll do anything as he says.

So when he requested you to find a substitute that is as- if not more- innocent and pure as _she_ is _(as if there is anyone that can be more innocent and pure than Maxine Caulfield)_ , there is really no other choice but to deliver him the spare, a.k.a. the ever sweet and religious Kate Marsh to the latest subject of his portfolio after _Rachel Amber_.

* * *

 

 _Well,_ you thought as you stare numbly at the bowl filled with the remnants of your dinner, _at least she isn't dead._ You wince as a voice at the back of your head whisper the word ' _yet',_ thoughts of her falling to a state of depression after the release of her _(humiliating)_ video on the internet. You know what it is like to be alone with no one ever showing an ounce of kindness, the various horizontal and vertical line adorning your wrists and arm is a proof.

You don't know how much time has passed with you still clutching the sides of the bowl in front of you. You vaguely remember pulling yourself up and hastily opening a bottle of sleeping pills and gulping down two at once. You recollect that after swallowing your _medication_ , you dragged yourself to your bed in order to not feel sore all over after waking up later on.

Maybe in another life, your mother doesn't die early and in turn, your father doesn't distance himself from you and doesn't send your sister away since he remembers your mother through her. In another life, maybe you would not have been emotionally and mentally unstable as a result of your father's harsh criticisms. In another life, maybe you were an upstanding student and citizen that everyone respects. In another life, maybe you never met _Mark Jefferson_ because your father didn't need to hire someone to help your increasing insanity. In another life, maybe you didn't see him as a father figure since you have a close relationship with yours. In another life, maybe you didn't have to be taken against your will and isolate yourself from others since you never needed someone to show you love affection

Maybe in another life, you were free to court the girl who is innocence herself since you didn't have to worry that she'll be the next _Rachel Amber._

But as darkness slowly fills your vision, you didn't think about those alternate timeline you could have been situated upon. Your last thought before falling asleep is not Maxine Caulfield’s eyes or her smile.

Your last thought was that you need to buy a gun.

 


End file.
